


Wired

by mary_alina



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 19:57:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18395303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mary_alina/pseuds/mary_alina
Summary: Based on the anon ask on tumblr for thesevenumbrellas.What if Klaus didn't trip down the stairs, what if he was tripped by someone else.





	Wired

**The Umbrella Academy, 2001.**

A small voice and quiet knock on the smooth wood of the doorframe was enough to draw the attention of young boy kneeling on the floor of a small bedroom.

“Hey Klaus.” A young girl with thick curly hair and dressed rather formally in a tartan skirt and blazer, embroidered with a strange emblem of sorts was leaning against the doorframe. “So, I was thinking, if you’re not busy, did you want to go ‘window shopping’? I’d ask Vanya but she’s _always_ busy playing her violin.”

Klaus looked up from the pile of Tarot cards he’d had been holding. A small smile appeared on his face when he’d sensed the underlying message in her question. Allison noticed and she smiled cheekily back at him as she let out a small mischievous giggle. Klaus placed the Tarot cards onto his desk nearby and pushed off from the ground. He pulled off the blazer he had been wearing and placed it over the adjacent chair. He turned and faced Allison and clapped his hands excitedly.

“Okay, let’s go!”

Allison gracefully turned on the spot and skipped down the hallway. Klaus followed enthusiastically after her. They had reached the locked door of another room, not too far from Klaus’ bedroom. Both of the children looked around apprehensively to see if their _father_ or Pogo were near. Allison pulled a lock pick from her pocket and began fiddling with the door knob. Not a moment later the mechanisms clicked, and the handle was swiftly turned, opening the door. Like ghosts, they slipped into the room, unnoticed, Klaus closing the door silently behind them.

Grace’s dressing room was bare. A small window was on the opposite side of where they were standing, surrounded by empty walls. To the left was a simple floor-length mirror. To the right a large, antique and intricately detailed oak wardrobe stood magnificently. Klaus couldn’t contain his excitement at what was stored inside, and like a giddy little school girl he gripped the brass handles and opened the door. 

The pair were met with an explosion of colourful garments neatly organised by type on fabric coat hangers. Their _mother_ may have not had many material items, but she did possess a wardrobe that would make any fashionista swoon. Chanel, Prada, Armani, Yves Saint Laurent were but a few of the tags stitched delicately to the articles. At the bottom of the wardrobe was a shoe rack filled with expensive shoes to match. 

Allison reached out and lovingly caressed a pale-yellow silk blouse, her heart melting at how soft and beautiful it was against her fingertips. Klaus eyed a pair of glossy black stiletto high heels. Without hesitation he picked them up and inspected them adoringly. Louboutin’s trademarked with their red soles, size nine, three-and-a-half-inch heels, satin inlay. These were always his favourite when his mother wore them. He loved the way they almost screamed “I’m important, listen to me”, a feeling he rarely felt amongst his six other adopted siblings. 

Turning to Allison who had now taken the blouse out and was standing in front of the mirror, holding the it against her small frame, admiring how she looked.

“Oh, Allison! That looks so pretty on you! Put it on, I want to see you in it!” Allison nodded her head at the reflection of Klaus and hastily pulled off her blazer, woollen jumper and shirt. 

“Ha ha Klaus, are you really going to put mom’s heels on? You know she hates it when you stretch her shoes.” Allison had stopped midway through pulling the blouse over her head and laughed. 

Klaus shrugged playfully at Allison and sat on the floor. Wasting no time, he pulled his leather school shoes and socks off, and placed the heels elegantly onto his feet. Awkwardly rising, he wobbled in the expensive shoes. Turning on the spot, holding onto the wardrobe for balance, he admired the heels in the mirror. He felt a jolt of electricity and held his breath and he took them in. He felt invincible.

Allison averted her gaze from the blouse and giggled.

“Go on then, go for a little walk. Give us a strut!” Allison gestured at Klaus and crossed her arms, cocking her head to one side.

Klaus let go of the wardrobe and started to walk, struggling to find his balance. He’d made it few steps began hitting his stride. Heel, toe, heel, toe, he began ‘strutting’ around. Allison started chanting and wolf-whistling at Klaus, in between fits of laughter. He’d circled the room a few times before deciding he wanted to take the show to the next level.

“Allison let’s do a fashion show! Just imagine me walking down the stairs, like in those movie scenes!” He hadn’t even finished the sentence as he made his way towards the door, turning the door handle to open it. “Come on then!”

Klaus walked down the long hallway, each step in the heels echoing on the tiled floor. Close behind and struggling to breathe from laughing, Allison urged Klaus on. She picked up her speed and raced past Klaus and her _father_ , who was peering out of the door of his study and hurried down the two flights of the majestic staircase.

Sir Reginald Hargreeves seethed at the sight before him. How dare Number Four be audacious enough to deter from the prescribed uniform of the Academy? He’d watched for a few moments longer, his top lip curling with disgust. Something must be done. He wouldn’t stand of it any of it any longer. Clearing his throat, he picked his moment.

Klaus was still slowly and awkwardly walking towards the top of the staircase, naively unaware that his father had moved silently from his study after him. Allison looked up at the first flight of the stairs, impatiently waiting for Klaus to appear. She was unable to see past the mezzanine level, as the stairs turned and changed direction. 

Finally reaching the top of the stairs, Klaus stopped briefly to catch his breath and calm his nerves. He was overjoyed and absorbed in the fantasy he was about to portray. Closing his eyes, he pictured it clearly in his mine—he was Mia Thermopolis from ‘The Princess Diaries’ when she was about to walk down the stairs in that awe-inspiring scene. He imagined that there the foyer was filled with all types of people; celebrities, paparazzi—all their eyes and cameras on him.

Sir Reginald shielded from prying eyes by a thick support column was now enraged. He gripped the rounded handle of his cane firmer and tilted it dangerously towards Klaus’ ankles. He fixated on the heels, further fuelling his rage. 

Klaus exhaled, opened his eyes and raising his left foot, began his descent. 

“No _student_ of mine will dress in drag!” he spoke the words with such a cold and fierce tone, Klaus didn’t have a chance to freeze or even process what had happened.

The cane collided hard against his ankle, sending pain rippling through his body. He lurched forward. Klaus saw stars as he tumbled, twisted and fell down the flight of stairs. Training and fighting crime as The Umbrella Academy sometimes hurt and he’d lost count of the bruises he’d received, but all of that paled in comparison to the searing agony he felt in his jaw.

Like a snake, Reginald had slithered back into his study—no one had seen or heard him. Good. He relaxed into his large oxford armchair and reached for his journal; red, bound and embossed with the initial’s ‘RH’. Opening it up, he began writing a new entry, using a gold tipped fountain pen. A small, devilish smile crept up on his face as he wrote.

The happy mood Allison was in vanished instantly as she heard the loud tumble and wailing scream of agony Klaus was emitting. Taking the staircase two steps at a time she ran up to the mezzanine level and saw Klaus doubled over, clutching his face. Blood was pouring through the cracks in his fingers. She froze.

“Mom, dad, Pogo, Luther! Help! Please come quick! HELP!” She collapsed next to Klaus and began to cradle him.

He writhed in pain, his face stained with tears and blood. His lip was bloodied, and his one handsome face looked as though he’d be in a brawl. She looked up at the stairs and saw the pair of heels laying a strewn. She looked back at Klaus and held him tighter.

“It’s okay Klaus, it’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna be okay, I’m here.” She choked tears of her own back as she cooed calming words to Klaus.

Grace and Pogo appeared at the bottom of the stairwell; Grace holding her cross stitch hoop and Pogo with a newspaper. 

“Allison, Klaus! My sweethearts, what’s happened?” Grace’s programming took a moment to process the situation. Activating her programmed response to pain, she moved towards Klaus and began analysing the injury. “Allison, step away from him. Pogo help me get him to the hospital wing, I suspect a broken jaw.”

Pogo, pursed his lips and nodded his head understandingly.

* * *

Eight weeks had passed since Klaus had fallen—no tripped while running down the stairs and fracturing his jaw in three places. Klaus had no memory of the fall ever taking place and was only able to piece it together from his _father’s_ recollection of the incident.

Allison had been very supportive of Klaus during his recovery. He was unable to speak or eat, so she did her very best effort to keep him entertained and comfortable. Diego mocked Klaus and made it very known at any opportunity to anyone around how nice and peaceful the Academy was now that Klaus was unable to speak.

Ben and Vanya tried to help Klaus see the funny side of the situation—he probably shouldn’t have been wearing mom’s heels but bet he would have looked killer in them. The most amount of emotion Luther had shown to Klaus was a hand on the shoulder and a ‘get well soon’.

Klaus never did try wearing Grace’s heels again, but still longed for the immense feeling and satisfaction he felt from wearing them. He’d never fully felt comfortable in his skin and the uniform he was forced to wear, each and every day at the Academy. He longed to wear his heart on his sleeve and truly express how he felt.

Klaus sat on the floor of his bedroom with a Ouija board to the left of him, next to it a small incense burner holding a burning cigarette. His face was hidden as he inspected the frilly black leather skirt he was holding in the air. He smiled at the article of clothing and muttered.

“I’m sure Allison won’t notice it’s missing.”

  _\- The End -_


End file.
